Another View
by Aifos Margni
Summary: A cool story I wrote for a class that I'm curious about the reaction to. A famous myth with a perspective that I haven't seen before. Everyone I know enjoys it, hope you do too.


Such foolish mortals, they deserved to die. Such creatures that lose their eloquence in the face of pressure are disgusting. They deserve what I had given to them. After all, my life is in their balance as well, however do I ever lose face? Do I ever begin to fidget in the face of a higher power? If the ridiculous mortals were smart enough, they would notice that there is only one of me. There are many of them. However, none of them are smart enough to think that they can overcome me with their numbers. Again, I say foolish mortals.

They come of their own will now. The ones when I first appeared, the ones that ran as soon as they saw that I was coming. _They_ were smart. They hid and waited until I left to run. They told of me in their little rats nests of cities. I always made sure that they didn't hear me. After all, what if one of them figures it out with the extra time? No, none of them knew. They spread that I was powerful, that I was to be feared. Again, not a one thinks that they have enough to overpower. That is why _I_ am smart. Nothing will breed fear more than the embellished tales of cowards. They are intelligent cowards, but cowards all the same.

Here comes another of their champions. Another hot-blooded youth, prepared to demonstrate that he is far stronger than the others. This is the best part, watching the youths as I swoop in. I can see the sun glinting off of the champion's armor, watch when their confidence turns to unease before settling into fear. I can see when the before gentle hand on the sword in its scabbard begins to tighten and shake. It is almost at war with the peaceful breezes that frequented the high road. The gentle sounds of birds in the forests nearby.

"So, good sir, May I ask a riddle. . ."

* * *

The champions always provide good meals. They are healthy from their training. The elder ones tend to be heavier. They are the ones that have survived multiple battles and creatures. As soon as I lay my eyes on a warrior, I can tell how long that they have been fighting. I had hope for the elder ones. They had experience, they had knowledge and cleverness. All of them are still disappointing. The elder ones held their eloquence though. Their acquiescence when I had bested them was respectable. It was the youths that fought hardest against it. They unsheathed their swords, swung in desperation and fear.

It matters little though. All I had to do was feed a little more that day. There are some days that I simply don't pay attention to the foolish mortals. All the days seem to blur together.

Hmm, this is interesting. This one does not wear armor. He has no weapon. He is either very strong or very arrogant. Foolishness still knows no bounds now, does it? Even at my most malnourished, I have a prime champion's strength. He almost looks like the nearby kingdom's king. . . Well, it is of no matter. I will still give this champion the riddle. He has yet to acquiesce to my presence. This is very interesting. . .

"So, good sir, May I ask a riddle. . ."

* * *

That old youth should have answered incorrectly. I believe that his sanest thought now is just that. The poor boy has gone blind and has lost his mind. He is inconsolable even by his own children. His own wife had killed herself after he went to the Oracle. His mother and father, well, some things always get very grim when you fight fate. Not impossible, but his father ensured his fate when he sent his son away. But if hadn't been raised there, I wonder if he would've answered. . .

Reminiscing on the past is not worth it. Especially now, after all, what would I do with this hindsight? The boy is very much guilty over things that were out of his command. What would he have done with the knowledge of his parentage? Try to assume the throne? Try to leave? The boy wants nothing to do with any of it, any of what he did.

The women bustled around the old man, seeing to his every need, speaking to one another about how to help him, seeing if he will respond to them. The old man himself had curled into himself, crying with his hands on where eyes should've been.

"I should have never, never. Should have never," the man cryed again and again. In another attempt to speak to him one of the women approaches him.

"Never should have what Father?" The women asked, gently trying to take his hand from his face.

"Never should have answered the Sphinx," He answered, and went back to his madness.


End file.
